No Destiny 5 - Do You Love Me
by leaysaye
Summary: We pick up where Learning to Live ended - Daryl is learning to cope with the migraines, but new and terrifying developments make this hard, both for him and Rick. Rick/Daryl, slash. Major hurt/comfort. Illness. Sickfic.
1. Chapter 1

He paces. He can't sit still for a moment. He's tried, it's no use.

"Rick, you need to eat something."

He shakes his head at Carol.

"Sit down, at least. You look ready to keel over…"

"No."

He can't. Instead he goes out onto the veranda, to pace some more, scanning the darkening sky for nothing.

Daryl's out there, right now. His man, his lover. He, Abe and Sasha should be back by now. Where are they?

It's his, Rick's, fault. He should've never allowed it. Too late now.

Too late.

He balls his hands into fists, hisses at the pain from the cut to his palm. Daryl's out there, in danger, he's almost certain. And there's nothing Rick can do about it.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Mhhmmm… Rick? What time's it?"_

 _"Still early… don't get up yet…"_

 _"Why're you awake?"_

 _"Dunno… woke up, couldn't go back to sleep."_

 _"So you watchin' me instead?"_

 _"I guess so… you mind?"_

 _"Not really… you thinkin' bout today?"_

 _"Yeah…"_

 _"'s just a dry run. It'll be fine…"_

 _"Maybe you should stay here, just in case. Look after the kids…"_

 _"Rick…"_

 _"I'm scared, Daryl. I worry about all of you, but you especially. You're hardly back on your feet…"_

 _"'m fine. I got the bike, 'm not doing anything, really, just drivin'. No heavy lifting…"_

 _"Maybe leave the bike? Take a car, with Aaron. Then, at least…"_

 _"I gotta do this, man… gotta get back to normal. My head's not hurt in days. Let me be who I am, man…"_

 _"You're mine, too, Daryl. I almost lost you… I can't do this again, I'd go mad…"_

 _"Tell y'what. We do the dry run, see how it goes. If it's fine you won't worry so much…"_

 _"Daryl?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Promise me you'll always come back to me?"_

 _"Always… I swear. Rick?"_

 _"Hmm?"_

 _"'s early and we still got time…"_

 _"I like where you're going with this… C'mere…"_


	3. Chapter 3

"Rick? Is everything all right?"

Rick looks down at Jessie who has stopped at the bottom of the veranda steps, looking up at him with concern. She was clearly about to climb the stairs to join him. He starts to shake his head but then stops himself.

He can't talk to her. Not now. The whole thing with Pete, and the conflicting feelings that have been playing havoc with his mind ever since Jessie cut his hair are just too much to contemplate while everything else is falling apart around them. He waves at her vaguely, hoping she'll leave without a fuss.

"It's fine… I'm sure it'll all be ok… Would you excuse me, I'm not really in a mood to talk…"

He half turns away from her, but not before he catches the hurt look on her face.

"Sure," is all she says, however, before she walks away.

Rick retreats to the other end of the porch. He feels guilty for cutting her off like this, but mostly he feels relief. How can his mind dwell even for a second on anything other than the danger they're all in? But it's there, that niggle of guilt, confusion and desire, at the back of his mind. He's been wanting to mention Jessie to Daryl, at least hint at what's been going on in his head. But Daryl shut him down that night he returned with Morgan, and Rick hasn't tried very hard since.

And now his man is out there, night has really fallen and they have no way to go out to look for him and the others. Even if they make it back now, how would Daryl, Abe and Sasha get back behind the walls? And what if Daryl is sick again? He'll be in terrible danger, even with Abe and Sasha there to look out for him.

Rick is almost positive he didn't bring his pills out to the quarry. They hadn't expected to be gone for more than a couple of hours when they set off that morning. Rick knows Daryl's skill with the acupressure is still tenuous. He just can't relax enough to do it efficiently on himself.

Of course, there's no way of knowing whether the three really got into trouble leading the walkers away. The last communication on the radios had indicated no such thing. But they haven't heard anything in hours, and by now the three should long have been back.

He shouldn't have Daryl come with them to the quarry, he knowns it was a mistake. The thought crosses Rick's mind every few minutes, and every time another one follows suit straight away: If Daryl doesn't get the freedom to live his life now as he wants, finds his own place in their new community, he will never be content in Alexandria. A life shut up behind walls would be torture for his lover, Rick knows this, and he is certain that Daryl will not tolerate his mollycoddling much longer.

If he doesn't give Daryl his freedom there's no future for him and Rick.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Sasha, Abraham! You lead the herd away…"_

 _"'m going too, Rick."_

 _"Daryl, no! Go back to Alexandria, now!"_

 _"Rick, I gotta do this…"_

 _"Daryl, please… we don't have time for this…"_

 _"Exactly. Lemme do my thing… we all gotta role in this. You've said so enough times…"_

 _"Daryl, I… all right. Be safe, please… be careful…"_


	5. Chapter 5

_"Rick! Rick…"_

 _*static*_

 _"C'mon, man, you all right?"_

 _"Daryl? Where are you? Is the herd still moving?"_

 _"Rick, thank god… You ok? 'm coming for ya…"_

 _"No! No, man, don't… go back to the car, stick with Abe and Sasha. Don't be out there on your own… Daryl, please… Daryl?"_

 _"All right…"_

 _"I need you to stick to the plan, and I need you to be safe…"_

 _"Sure you ok?"_

 _"I will be… Daryl?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"I love you, man…"_

 _*static*_

 _"Daryl? Oh please, god, please…"_


	6. Chapter 6

He'd been stupid, so, so stupid. What would he tell the others? What to tell Rick?

His man had been right, after all. Recruiting was a waste of time, it was dangerous. Typically, Daryl had proved him right without effort.

How could he've gotten it so wrong? Why had he even bothered? After what these people had done to him in the first place? He should've dropped the insulin and been on his way. Then he'd still have his bike, and his dignity. But nothing, ever, went right for him. It wouldn't, neither, cos he was so dumb…

They weren't bad people, he was sure. But they were stupid, and scared, and he should've known. He'd been told enough times.

What did Aaron say? Fear shrinks the brain. Wasn't that the truth…

He'd forgotten. He should've reassured them, shown that their group was no threat. Made sure they knew what Alexandria was all about. Like Aaron had shown them.

And Rick had still knocked him flat.

Daryl had messed up, simple as that.

Asking those three questions, for the first time on his own, had been so hard. It had actually hurt.

And what did you do with the answers anyway? How could he've predicted what happened next?

But he should've… Rick would have known not to trust them. How he did it, Daryl had no clue.

Why couldn't Rick be with him now? He was a good wingman, he knew he was. But taking the lead, that was something else again…

He was too stupid. He couldn't be trusted to keep anyone safe, not even himself. Rick would be so mad… Conjuring up Rick in his imagination, Daryl could actually see his man's disappointment.

Despair welled up in him, and tears started rolling down his face before he could prevent it. Daryl could hardly see now, he had to stop the truck. Leaning his head on his arms crossed on the steering wheel he let the tears come.

And a dull throbbing was starting behind his eyes.

"Nonono…"

Not this, not now. He'd been dimly aware all day of the smarting in his arm, his leg, and the side of his head had been sore to the touch from the crash and the whack Dwight had delivered to his temple the night before. But the headache had been bearable, quite different from the migraine.

He hadn't brought any pills. It was supposed to only be a test run, back in a couple hours at most. A day and a half without food, hardly any water, and a lot of tension, and this was the inevitable result. Stupid, Dixon.

He hadn't mentioned it to Rick, or anyone, that he didn't have his meds. He'd not even thought about it until now. How could he have been so dumb? Had he learned nothing?

Nothing for it now but hurry, hoping he'd find the others quickly and get back to Alexandria before the pain and nausea knocked him flat again.

No chance in hell for that.

Daryl wiped his face. For a brief, giddying moment he thought about finding the herd. Get in between them, open the door, and end it all. Let them rip him apart. He was useless, why burden the others? He was good for nothing but lying around being a burden. Needing others to care for him while he puked his guts out over and over.

But Daryl remembered, just in time, the promise he'd made his man.

 _I will always come back to you._

"Here you are, Rick. Yer getting yer wish, hope yer happy, being lumped with me…"

Squinting against the increasing brightness, fighting the pain now close to unbearable, Daryl started the truck again and set off towards where he'd last seen Sasha and Abe.


	7. Chapter 7

"Daryl, what is it? You ok?"

"'s my head…"

"Stop the truck, Daryl. Now!"

"Oh god…"

Daryl barely got the door open, dropping to his knees hard as he scrambled out of the truck's cabin, not even managing two steps before his legs refused service. His injured left leg burned terribly as he hit the tarmac. Daryl couldn't suppress a whimper as he doubled over, gagging. Stabs of pain were shooting through his head and gut. He could feel his insides churn, his gorge rise. Vomit splattered the road in front of him and he curled up on himself more tightly as his stomach cramped repeatedly.

The bile burning his throat was so horribly familiar. Even though it was overcast the light seemed impossibly bright and he was as good as blind with it. He felt himself tilt sideways, unable, as usual during an attack, to keep his balance, and the world swayed beneath him.

He would have fallen, his sense of up and down completely shot to hell, but then he felt Sasha drop down by his side, and she caught him. Her arms around him felt reassuringly solid, and the fear that had risen like the bile abated somewhat.

"I got you Daryl. Lean against me, c'mon, I can take it. That's it… breathe, Daryl… shhh…"

Daryl didn't want to be a burden, he felt the humiliation and embarrassment acutely. But he had no choice, he was already so weak, and growing weaker still.

"Abe, get me some water. He's burning up…"

A few moments later Sasha was pressing a wet cloth to Daryl's forehead and he moaned with relief. Eyes tightly shut, fighting the renewed urge to heave he stayed as still as he could against Sasha, willing the word to stop spinning. He was shaking so hard, that alone was making him feel sick again.

Sasha didn't rush him, just pulled him closer when it seemed that the vomiting had stopped for the moment. She did her best to shield him from the light, and Daryl leaned his burning forehead against her shoulder.

Her hand alighted on the back of his neck, soothing him. They'd all become familiar with Rick's gestures, and she was trying to mirror whatever Rick would do to comfort Daryl.

"I'm sorry that I can't do the acupressure on you, Daryl…"

"And it's not safe for us to stay here, anyway…" Abe growled.

Daryl felt fear bubble up again. He couldn't move, he just couldn't… Sasha started to stroke his back when she felt him tense.

"Just give us a moment, Abe… Daryl, you think you can sip some water? Just a little might make you feel better…"

"Can try…"

"I'll help you. Keep your eyes closed."

She guided the bottle to his lips and he tried to take a small sip. It made him cough something awful, and he lowered his head with a groan as the world spun sickeningly again. The water mostly just ran down his chin.

Moving his head made the nausea surge and Daryl's hands tightened on Sasha where he'd bunched them into fists, clutching her shirt. Panicking now he tried to lean away, almost overbalanced when the retching started and more bile splattered the ground.

"Damn…" Abe's voice, much closer now, was worried and full of pity.

Even though she was noticeably struggling Sasha managed to hold Daryl upright and prevented him from falling. He had no choice but to let her, there was no strength left in him. His stomach was in painful knots again, his insides seemed to be on fire and the bile was burning its way up his throat. Tears ran down his face and Daryl desperately wished Rick by his side. For the moment he was still conscious of his surroundings, which was not entirely a blessing as the agony mounted steadily.

"We have to get you back as quick as we can. We're too exposed here, and you need Rick, or Aaron, and your meds…" Sasha held him as he slumped in her arms, shaking. "I'm sorry to cause you pain, Daryl, but we gotta try now…"

Daryl pressed the palm of his hand to his throbbing temple. Where was Rick, he needed Rick… he'd failed, he was being punished. His voice was raw when he tried to speak.

"Can't…please…"

"You have to, Daryl, I'm sorry. We'll help. Abraham…" Daryl felt a large hand gently alight on his arm. "Let's try and get up, ok? Abe will help you. Keep your eyes closed and lean on us both, ok? Careful Abe, let's go real slow…"

Moving made the nausea and pain double again, and Daryl groaned, pressing a hand on his aching midsection soon as he was upright. He couldn't suppress a new bout of gagging, but nothing came up.

"C'mere, man, I got ya…"

Abe put an arm firmly but carefully around Daryl and waited out the gagging with him, holding him as steady as Rick would have done. Daryl was less apprehensive about leaning his full weight on the other man, and it was a relief to be able to relax and feel safe in Abe's hands. His legs were shaking badly, but Abe got him around to the passenger side of the truck quickly.

When Sasha had climbed into the middle seat again Abe helped Daryl clamber up after her. He squinted into the still too-bright light and gratefully leaned into Sasha as she pulled him close.

Daryl could feel his consciousness go fuzzy around the edges as Abe started the truck. He felt hot and cold all at once, and the movement of the truck was starting to make him feel disoriented and sick again.

"Daryl? Daryl, stay with me…"

He could hear Sasha still, but she was slipping away. Soon the things she was saying were no longer making sense. He could feel himself sliding down in the seat as his body went slack, but couldn't stop it from happening. Sasha's arms around him as she tried to keep him on the seat were starting to hurt and he whimpered quietly.

Could she not stop, wouldn't it ever stop? He couldn't do this again, no, no…

The world was devoid of features, had no beginning or end. No sight, no sound penetrated his burning head, only one thought remained, repeated over and over.

He was losing the battle. He was a failure.


	8. Chapter 8

"Can I put him down? He's too weak to stand up…please…"

"All right, then…what's wrong with him anyway?"

"He…"

"Is he contagious?"

"I…we don't know…"

"What d'you mean? Are there others sick, at your camp?"

"Maybe…

"Yes or no, darlin', eh?"

"I don't know…we've been away…let…let us go, and you'll be safe from whatever this is…"

"Let you go? Hah, you shittin' me? I'll just kill y'all…"

 _-.-boom-.-_

"Christ…Abe…!"

"Sorry 'bout that, Sasha…nibble on that, asshole. You all right?"

"Yeah…"

"What about Daryl?"

"I…I don't know. I was shielding him, we were already on the ground…but he's burning up, Abe. And he's totally unresponsive, he didn't even flinch just now…all he keeps doing is trying to lift his hands to his head, and roll away from the light…he's in so much pain…"

"We gotta get back. He needs Rick…"

"I know…oh no… Abe, quick, help me turn him on his side, he's gonna be sick… Daryl, it's ok, you'll be ok…keep breathing. Hold him, Abe? Let me put his head in my lap for a moment so he can catch a breath…it's all right, darling. We'll be home soon…"

"Sasha, we gotta move. It'll be swarming with those dead fuckers here in a minute."

"I know, I know… I think he's done for now. Daryl, we'll get you up now, don't be scared, ok? Abe will get you back in the truck…"

"He'll need more'n just accu…whatever. Hope they got something else to help him. This is definitely getting worse, poor fucker…"

-.-

"You need to stay here, all right?"

"No! I gotta help. There are walkers everywhere, Abe, and our people are in there…"

"Sasha, we can't leave him alone. This here is Rick's man. Have you any idea what he'll do if something happens to Daryl? Stay in the truck, keep him safe. I'll get us inside, then you can fight."

"Abe…"

"Sasha, Daryl's completely helpless. Never mind these things, imagine he pukes again and chokes on his own vomit. How will you live with that?"

"I…you're right. Hurry, though. They need you, and Daryl needs a doctor, he's not gonna last much longer…"


	9. Chapter 9

He had him back. Rick looked across to the second bed where Daryl lay, asleep. His man, as pale and unwell as he'd ever seen him, but at least here he was, safe, where he could see him.

This night had cost them all so much. Rick looked down at the bed in front of him, which held the unconscious form of his son. The horror Rick felt every time he looked at Carl's bandaged head was completely unreal. He was sure it'd all hit home soon, but for now Carl's condition made him almost numb.

Denise couldn't say with certainty whether he'd live. There were no more certainties in this world. It was wait and see now, and it was killing Rick. If Carl woke in the next day or so, Denise said they'd know more. For now there was nothing Rick could do for him.

But at least Carl seemed to be in no pain. The same couldn't be said for the man in the other bed. Rick had already spent several hours moving from one bed to the other, called back to Daryl's side when his man started shifting restlessly, moaning with pain. Aaron had spent a long time with Daryl when Abe and Sasha had first brought him to the infirmary, using the acupressure techniques on him with limited success. Daryl had dropped off, more relaxed, but within minutes had woken up again, already gagging.

Once Aaron had left Rick had used the acupressure as well every time Daryl woke up, but the effects had never lasted.

"We need IV migraine medication for him, Rick," Denise had said with a worried frown. "The pills are no use if he can't swallow."

And Daryl definitely couldn't swallow now. Even when he wasn't asleep he'd never surfaced enough to react to any of them when they tried to rouse him. He just fussed restlessly, trying to curl up, away from even the weakest source of light. His hands would scrabble on the covers as if he were looking for something. His fever kept spiking, and he couldn't keep down even the small amounts of water they'd managed to get into him.

Denise had given Daryl a low dose of generic IV pain meds, but these had slowed down Daryl's breathing almost immediately, and they'd decided not to try that again. All they'd been able to do was hook up some saline, but their supplies of that were running low. A forage trip for medication was an essential priority soon.

And now Rick could see the next crisis coming. Daryl had been curled up on his side, facing away from Rick and the shielded lamp that was burning in a far corner. Now he was trying to turn over, and Rick thought it looked like he was actually trying to get up. Letting go of Carl's hand Rick quickly got up and hurried over to the other bed.

Daryl's hands were scrabbling on the mattress, he was trying, and failing, to push himself up. His face was beaded in perspiration and paper white. His eyes, fever bright and unfocused, flitted from one corner of the room to the other, never settling. Rick sat down on the bed by his man's side, putting a hand gently on Daryl's shoulder to keep him lying down.

"What is it, man? Daryl, can you hear me? Shh, it's ok, you're safe…"

"Rick…"

The dark, familiar voice was raspy and weak, but Rick was glad to hear Daryl finally speak again. But he was still trying to push himself up, now gasping for breath. He didn't even have the strength to roll over onto his side, so Rick put his arms around Daryl gently and pulled him up to half-sitting. He had an idea what was coming.

"Sick…"

"I know, man. Here, just lean over a little more…"

Rick picked up the basin from the floor with one hand and held it for Daryl as his man gagged painfully.

There wasn't much in Daryl's stomach, he'd only taken a few sips of water for hours. A thin trickle of bile splashed into the basin now as Daryl retched, sobbing with the pain. Rick held him gently, Daryl's hands on his arm cold as ice. When, after a couple of minutes of dry heaving, it was apparent that Daryl had nothing left to vomit up Rick tried to lower him gently. Daryl however gave a whimper and tensed in Rick's arms.

"It's ok, man, you're done for now, nothing more coming up. Let's get you lying down again so you can relax a little. The pain will only get worse otherwise…"

Finally Daryl allowed Rick to lie him back down, and then turned over right away, burying his head in the pillow with another sob. Rick knew that the light was bothering his hunter, so he put the basin back on the floor and quickly went over to the corner and switched the already dim light off.

A weak moonlight was filtering in through the gaps in the curtains, and it was enough for Rick to make out the shape of his man curled up on the bed. Daryl had a hand pressed against his temple and his shoulders were shaking. Rick knew he was crying quietly.

"Don't, Daryl…"

Rick went back over to his man and sat down. He slowly searched for Daryl's head in the dark and placed one hand on his man's neck, the other massaging his temple gently.

"Messed up…Rick…'m useless…"

"What do you mean?"

Daryl felt impossibly hot under Rick's hands. It was more than worrying how high his fever had climbed this time, and how bad the pain was getting. Daryl's condition was definitely deteriorating with each attack, and Rick felt utterly helpless and sick with worry.

"They took…motorcycle, and… m'crossbow…"

Daryl groaned and pushed himself around again, already gagging. Rick quickly retrieved the basin and held Daryl up when he finally managed to roll over. More bile splattered into the basin, and Daryl gave another sob. Rick couldn't see his man's face in the dark, but Daryl turned around again and curled up when the gagging finally stopped, one hand disappearing under the covers and pressing on his stomach, the other on his temple again.

Rick put the basin back on the floor and snuck his hand under the blankets as well, placing it on Daryl's stomach next to his and rubbing him gently. Daryl sighed, but stayed tense, as if unwilling to let himself be soothed by Rick.

"Y'were right," he whispered after a minute or so, his voice bitter. "'s a waste of time, recruiting. I fucked up, 'm such a useless…"

"Stop this right now." Rick's made sure to keep his voice calm, but to put some force into it. "You trusted these people based on what you knew at the time. You took a risk. As a leader you have to be willing to do that. If I'd never taken risks we would've never made it this far."

"But I messed up…trusted t'wrong people…"

"And I haven't ever done that, man? Plenty people have died because I messed up. But you can't let that stop you, you have to carry on. What's the alternative?"

There was a silence, and Rick had a hunch what his man was thinking.

"T'leave…"

Deep down Rick had known it. Daryl thought that he wasn't worth this, a new start, a better, safer life unless he kept delivering, kept protecting them all. Just for his own sake Daryl could never fathom to be wanted, or be worth their protection, and Rick's love.

It broke Rick's heart.

"If you did that," Rick found his own voice cracking now, "you might as well just kill me, man. This life, it's nothing without you by my side…"

He could feel Daryl shaking, knew his man was crying again, and trying not to show it. He felt for Daryl's hand and squeezed it.

"Please don't, Daryl. Please…you're gonna feel so much worse… I know you don't care, you think you deserve punishment, and there's nothing I can say to convince you otherwise. But please, for me? I can't see you suffer, man…"

But Daryl was just shaking harder. Rick hesitated, unsure how it would be received. But then he toed his shoes off and stretched out next to Daryl.

For a moment he was sure Daryl would turn away, curl up and shut Rick out completely. Rick felt for Daryl's neck in the dark again, stroking him gently.

"Don't, man… c'mere…"

And with a desperate, keening sob Daryl turned over with some difficulty and pushed himself into Rick's arms. Rick pulled him close and held on tight.

He had no more words, nothing to say. Daryl wouldn't listen to reason, not now, sick, humiliated and weak as he was. All Rick could hope for was that time would help to heal the desperate sadness in his man.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey, man. Didn't hear you come back. You ok?"

Rick came down the last few steps into the living room, eyes on Daryl who was lying prone on the sofa. The hunter glanced up at him and gave a small half-smile.

"Hey…yeah, 'm good."

"No headaches? Not feeling sick? You look a bit pale…"

"No, feel fine."

"Promise?"

"Rick…"

"Hey, I worry. Surely you see why…"

Daryl looked away, and Rick was sure he saw anger and pain in Daryl's eyes before they slid away. He knew his man was still deeply upset with himself, and it was starting to seriously worry Rick. But before he could say anything else Daryl looked back at him.

"Yeah, I know…promise, 'm fine. Jus' real tired…"

Rick slowly advanced towards Daryl, who shifted on the sofa to make room for him. Rick sat and then gave Daryl an appraising look.

His man's face really was still much too pale, and much thinner than it should be. A permanent shadow had settled under his narrow eyes. Daryl's gaze did look tired, but at least it had now lost the feverish gleam.

All of them were urging Daryl to eat, but the hunter still looked painfully thin. Rick put his hand on Daryl's chest now and rubbed him gently, just glad to be able to be together in peace for a few minutes for no other reason than wanting to be close. Daryl's eyes fluttered shut at Rick's caress, and he gave a little hum. Rick had to smile, he hadn't heard that noise in a long time. It was nice to be gentle with Daryl and make him feel loved. Rick needed to do it more.

The last three weeks had been difficult for them all. For once Daryl hadn't been chomping at the bits to leave Alexandria. He stayed close to the house, mostly, sitting on the porch a lot. Rick had been worried about that, almost more than about Daryl's usual urge for freedom. He hadn't engaged much with anyone, and while never rude when they approached him just seemed the most content when left alone. Rick had done his best not to let Daryl brood too much, but he'd been busy with Carl's recovery, too, and the repairs and expansions on the wall, and knew that Daryl hadn't been as much at the forefront of his mind as he should've been.

Before his man fell ill, Rick knew, he would've never tolerated Rick petting him like this, right here in the living room where anyone could walk in on them. But the migraines had changed him, changed them both. Daryl had had to learn to trust, and accept help, but lately some of his old suspicion and wariness had returned, and it saddened Rick. Their hunter had pulled back from them all, been quieter and less relaxed around them than in a long time. The humiliating experience of having his bike and crossbow taken had undone a lot of the progress they'd made.

So it was extra nice to take advantage now of Daryl's mellow mood, and of nobody being around. Rick didn't like how closed off Daryl was with everyone, but he was glad that at least sometimes he could get through to his hunter still.

He put his hand against Daryl's face now, but for a moment he was sure Daryl would flinch away. But then he merely opened his eyes, which were so sad it nearly broke Rick's heart.

"Oh Daryl, don't, man…"

Rick knew Daryl was on the verge of tears even before the first one started rolling down Daryl's cheek and onto his hand. Daryl's eyes fluttered shut again as Rick gently wiped the tear away with his thumb.

"Hey, what is it? It's ok, we're doing all right now…you gonna give yourself a headache, buddy…"

But Daryl shook his head and turned his face away from Rick's hand.

"Don', Rick…can'…'s not workin', 'm not worth this…"

"Daryl, this is nonsense. Course you're worth us caring. I love you, Daryl. You…you're my life. I can't do… _this_ … without you. If I lost you, I…please…Daryl…"

Rick could hardly speak around the lump in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, to try and convince Daryl that he was just so wrong. None of them, he knew, were any use.

Sometimes he just wanted to shake the hunter until his teeth rattled. When that thought crossed his mind and he looked at the narrow, pale face before him, the eyes full of tears that wouldn't meet his, he felt terribly ashamed. Hugging himself, trying to turn away from Rick, Daryl looked so fragile and vulnerable Rick's heart twisted in his chest.

Rick was exhausted. These last few weeks had been a struggle, he'd not had a single moment to breathe. Between Carl's injury, and the clear-up and repairs, Rick felt like he needed twice the hours in a day to get everything done. And now he knew just how much more attention Daryl needed, too. He'd been too busy to realize just how bad things had turned with him.

Rick had known that losing his bike and crossbow had been a blow for his man, but only now did he realize just how badly it had rattled his already fragile state of mind. They couldn't afford for Daryl to fall apart again, a repeat of the deep depression that had set in after Beth had died would be dangerous, and excruciatingly painful.

He should have predicted how hard Daryl would take it all, and with the migraine having so thoroughly messed him up he was even more vulnerable to revert to destructive self-loathing. This time Daryl seemed to have lost all confidence in himself, which it had taken them years to build up together. The thought properly frightened Rick.

There was nothing he could do tonight, Rick realized. He was done in, and, looking at Daryl, so was his man. There was a set to Daryl's shoulders that told Rick how much he was struggling now just to stay awake.

"Let's go to bed, huh? It's barely dark yet, but I think we could both do with the rest…"

Daryl nodded right away and pushed himself up to sitting slowly. Rick got up, watching him, ready to lend a hand. The new medication Denise was trying on Daryl made the hunter uncoordinated and clumsy sometimes, and sure enough, as soon as Daryl got to his feet he swayed alarmingly. Rick stepped close and put an arm around his man, and Daryl's eyes in his were so sad. His face had gone even paler, and he looked like he felt sick again.

"You ok?"

"Dizzy…"

"C'mere, man, lean on me…"

For a moment Rick was sure Daryl would refuse. His shoulders tensed, and he lowered his head. But then, with a sob Daryl gripped Rick's arm with clammy hands and buried his face against Rick's neck. Rick tightened his arms around his man. The desperation with which Daryl was clinging on, shaking against him was frightening.

"Shh, hey…"

Rick carded a hand through Daryl's hair as Daryl shook in his arms with silent sobs. He could feel each rib under Daryl's shirt, his man's narrow, bony hips against his thigh. This was the most desperately sad they'd been since coming to Alexandria. All of it was just too much, for them both.

Just that moment Rick could think of nothing else to say that might penetrate their misery. He just held Daryl close for a moment longer, then, one arm firmly around him, led his man upstairs to their bedroom.

They got ready for bed in silence. Daryl's movements were slow and clumsy, and Rick came to his aid without comment when it became clear just how much effort each movement was for his man. Daryl just let him do it, letting Rick push him gently onto the bed and staring at nothing as Rick pulled off his pants, then got him out of his shirt.

For a while Rick was positive that the migraine pain was coming back, but Daryl didn't say anything and eventually Rick concluded it was simply exhaustion and sadness that made Daryl look so unwell. He fetched Daryl's pills and a glass of water from the bathroom and Daryl took both from him without looking up.

As soon as the pills were down and Rick had taken the glass from him again Daryl curled up tightly under the covers, back on the room, face hidden. Rick didn't bother to point out that Daryl hadn't brushed his teeth. When he himself had undressed and washed he turned the lights off and climbed into bed next to Daryl.

For a long time they lay in the dark, not moving or speaking. Rick knew Daryl was still awake, and he couldn't go to sleep while his man was locked up in misery like this. But he knew not to make the first move. Daryl had to want to be helped, and he had to remember, in his own time, that Rick would be there for him, always. The tension emanating from his hunter was heartbreaking.

"'m so sorry…"

When Daryl finally spoke it was hardly a whisper. For once Rick really had no words, but finally he felt that he could offer comfort. He moved closer and put his arms around Daryl.

For another moment Daryl stayed tense and unmoving, but then he gave a shudder and a sob, and moved into Rick's arms. Rick held on tight while Daryl clung to him, shaking.

They didn't speak again that night. Daryl fell asleep quickly, being so utterly exhausted, but Rick lay awake, mulling it all over in the darkness, feeling further than ever from a solution to their problems.


	11. Chapter 11

"You ok, Rick?"

"What? Oh, yeah…"

It was dark out on the veranda, the sun had set completely. Rick had been busy all day, first with the planning committee for the wall, then with Carl and Denise, checking on Carl's recovery. His son was doing well, all things considered, but Denise said there were certain things he should practice more, to train his good eye. Rick was amazed how well Carl had taken the loss of his eye, but nevertheless he made sure to check in with him several times a day.

The reason why Rick was out on the veranda, needing air and feeling anxious, was, as it seemed to be so often these days, Daryl. His man was certainly doing better physically, his pain better controlled with new medication and regular acupressure than ever before. But his hunter was still far from well, and the longer his condition remained unchanged the more worried Rick got.

Daryl hardly spoke to anyone, and he disappeared as soon as the sun was up. He slept in Rick's bed, but Rick wasn't sure whether it was just because Daryl was scared of what would happen if he told Rick they were done. They hadn't touched in so long Rick really didn't know whether Daryl was still his. Rick had tried to initiate something a few times, but every time Daryl had flinched, then either not reacted at all, or his eyes started filling with tears.

Rick desperately wanted to be there for his hunter, but Daryl kept pushing him away.

But Michonne, she was right here. He could feel her eyes on him, imagine her worried frown without looking. It was almost a caress. She was paying attention to him, and she knew Rick was suffering.

And, he had to admit, she was getting more beautiful by the day. Now that they weren't run off their feet all the time, grimy and starving, he noticed it more than ever. She helped with Carl, and Judith, without ever needing to be asked, and Rick was so grateful for her support. And _she_ didn't need _him_ for anything.

Now she came over and leaned against the railing very close by his side. When Rick looked up her gaze on him was so gentle.

She had such beautiful eyes, why had he never noticed?

"He'll be ok, you know…"

For a moment Rick was tempted to pretend he thought that she was talking about Carl. He didn't want to discuss Daryl. It felt dishonest, and it made him too sad.

The illness was bad enough. Rick still had nightmares about it, the pain his man was in, the way he'd writhe in Rick's arms when the migraine peaked. How sick he got, and how frighteningly hot he felt. In the nightmares Rick was poised, always, for Daryl to just die.

And when he was awake the fear of a new attack was never far away. Daryl was still much too thin, he looked fragile and pale, and tired quickly. But the sadness, the depression caused by the failure Daryl perceived to be was much, much harder to bear. Rick knew it had been a long time coming. This was the culmination of all the deaths they'd been powerless to prevent. Daryl was traumatized, and the encounter with the people who had double-crossed him had just been the last straw.

His situation seemed hopeless to them both, and it broke Rick's heart.

He looked at Michonne sadly. "I don't think that he will…"

Rick looked away for a moment. He didn't want to talk about it now, just concentrate on something else for a few minutes. And Michonne got it. She looked down, uncrossed her arms and took Rick's hand in hers. When her eyes met his again they were two pools of stars on velvet.

"I'm here, y'know… whatever you need."

Later, he never quite knew what made him do it, but at the time it felt so right. Rick leaned forward and kissed Michonne, and after a second she returned his kiss, her hand gently alighting on his face.

Rick felt his body react, his heart open. He knew what they were doing, and where it would lead, but his brain was curiously disengaged.

Michonne let the kiss go on for a long moment, but finally she broke away. She kept her eyes on Rick, and they were full of understanding. Her hand against his face was so soft, so different from Daryl's. Just being touched with gentleness, he'd missed this oh so much.

And she looked at him, actually acknowledged he was there. She was paying attention, and she wanted to help. Rick had forgotten what that felt like, someone being there for him. He didn't mind caring for others, he'd go to the end of the world for Daryl, and his children, but he couldn't deny that he needed this too, someone looking out for him now and then.

Her voice was low when she spoke, and she wasn't smiling now.

"I'll do this for you, if you want. And it'll never go further. Just say the word. But Rick," and now her eyes in his were harder, "make sure you know what you're asking, and why…"

And at that moment Rick knew that he could never, ever do it. He couldn't betray his man.

He slowly straightened up, and Michonne's hand dropped away. She gave a small nod, looking satisfied. There was no need for words.

From where Rick was standing, he and Daryl belonged together. He loved his hunter, more than anything in the world. And he'd fight for them – whatever it would take.


	12. Chapter 12

"Rick! That's a surprise. Everything ok?"

"Hi Aaron. Yes, all good…well…could I have a word?"

"Of course. Come on in. Eric's gone over to Denise to have his foot checked…"

"Is he healing ok?"

"Oh yes, it's almost back to normal…"

Aaron stepped aside to let Rick into the house, and Rick walked past him and on into the living room. Aaron followed and pointed at the sofa.

"Please, sit. Can I get you anything?"

"What? Oh, no. No, thanks."

Rick sat down. He felt nervous. This wasn't exactly him, seeking advice from another man on personal matters. On feelings, no less. But Aaron was the only one who might know what to do. He and Daryl had become close, and Daryl spent a lot of time here while Aaron did the acupressure with him. Daryl trusted this man, and he might've told Aaron something that could be useful.

"You just missed him. Daryl, I mean," Aaron added when Rick looked confused.

"Oh…yes, of course. How…how was he today?"

"Fine. Tired though. The new meds make him drowsy, and slow. And he was pretty quiet, even for him. Rick, is everything ok? With the two of you, I mean."

"I'm not sure…"

"It's really hard on Daryl, what happened with these people. He's blaming himself."

"Yeah, he is…I…I don't know what to do, Aaron. He's so sad. And he doesn't talk to me, at all…"

Aaron looked at Rick thoughtfully.

"I can't even begin to understand how hard this must be for you both. He's hurting, a lot. For the first time in his life he went against his instincts, trusted first, hoped for the best. And it backfired. Couple that with his illness…well, his defenses are virtually non-existent…

"Also, for the first time ever he has a bunch of people in his life he deeply cares for, who need him. And he needs you and your group to think well of him. He doesn't just _want_ to be accepted, he _needs_ it.

"And Rick, he loves you, deeply. But every time he gets to the point where he can almost believe he deserves your love something comes along and knocks him sideways, destroys the self-esteem he fought so hard to build up. And he's exhausted, he doesn't have any strength left. The migraines have taken it all.

"He doesn't know how to deal with any of this, so he pushes you away. It simply hurts too much, so he shuts it off."

Rick looked at Aaron, impressed. He knew the other man had gotten it spot on.

"I…would you… I just don't know how to help him anymore…"

Aaron's eyes were full of kindness and understanding. Rick wondered distractedly how such a decent and kind man could still survive in this world. But Rick knew Aaron was a survivor, too. He knew how to look out for people, keep them safe. No wonder Daryl had trusted him so implicitly. His man's instincts were good, even if he couldn't see it himself right now.

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"But he'll know I talked to you…"

Aaron smiled. "Not if we do this right. We both need to do our bit, though. I've got an idea…"


	13. Chapter 13

"Hey Daryl. Come in…how're you today?"

"Fine…"

"How's the head?"

"'s ok…"

"But not brilliant, huh?"

"'s not bad, jus'…never proper right, y'know…"

"And then you worry it might get really bad again?"

"Yeah…"

"And of course that doesn't help, the worrying. It just makes you tense…are you eating enough?"

"I…Rick tries t'get me t'eat ten meals a day…"

"Because you need it. Daryl, your body needs the energy, to make you well again, and to fight the migraine."

"I know…"

"And Rick worries…"

"Well, he shouldn't, should he?"

"Why not? He loves you…"

"'m useless…he deserves better…"

"Daryl, this is nonsense. You two belong together. He trusts you like he trusts nobody else. You protect his family, you provide for them all. You have his back, always…"

"He keeps sayin' that…but 'm useless now. 'm weak, all they keep doin' is havin' t'protect me…"

"You're getting better now. You'll be strong again soon, and Rick needs you still, even here. He needs someone he can love, who'll be just his…"

"'m that, always…"

"Good. But you gotta let him feel it. You're pushing him away, and it hurts him so much…"

"I know…don' mean t', neither…"

"He knows that, but it's hard for him to keep reminding himself, too, sometimes. Just remember to show him, when you can, how important he it to you, and that you love him. You do, don't you?"

"You got no idea…"

"Then let him know, Daryl… And now, lie down here for me so we can make your head feel better."


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey, Daryl…"

Daryl closed the door behind himself quietly. He'd half hoped, half dreaded Rick to be waiting for him. His man was usually home at this time, to feed Judith and put her down for the night.

It looked like he'd just finished doing just that and was putting the kitchen back in order. Now he hung the dish towel back up and came over into the living room.

"Good session with Aaron today?"

"Yeah. M'head's real good now. Was…wasn't so good earlier…"

Daryl really wanted to try Aaron's parting suggestion _: Let him know how you are, so he feels part of your life._ It felt strange, wasting words on that sort of thing, but Rick smiled and came closer, stopping right in front of Daryl, raising his right hand.

His hand against Daryl's face was gentle, and Daryl let his eyes fall shut at the caress. This was nice. It seemed Rick appreciated him sharing details about his day. Maybe Aaron was right.

"You look tired, man…"

Daryl glanced at Rick from under his lashes.

"So d'you…"

"Yeah, long day. I'll be glad to go to bed."

"Same…"

There was a pause, but Rick's hand was still on Daryl's face, not moving now.

"Something the matter?"

"Daryl, can I ask you a favor?"

Why would he be so hesitant? Didn't Rick know Daryl would do anything for him?

Maybe Rick really didn't, and it was all his, Daryl's, fault… Daryl knew he'd been distant with Rick recently, but only now did he begin to realized how much Rick must've suffered with it.

"Anything, man, f'you…"

Daryl looked at Rick and tried to convey with his gaze that he was sorry, and that he just couldn't say it in so many words. Rick's eyes were so gentle and full of gratitude. He got it, Daryl was relieved to see.

"It's Carl… Denise said he needs to train his eye more, especially the long-distance vision. It's completely different, seeing just with one eye, and he'll not get to practice that in here…and I doubt they do much PT, Enid and he, when they sneak out…"

"Y'want me t'go outside the walls with him sometime? Sure…"

It was making Daryl feel nervous, the thought of having that responsibility, after all this time. He knew he was far from as strong as he used to be, and he wasn't sure that'd ever completely change now. But it would still be good for him, and actually a useful thing to do. Rick seemed to get some of what was going through Daryl's head now, too.

"Maybe the three of us could go? A couple days, bond with Carl, have a campfire at night. Shoot some squirrel…" Daryl actually had to smile at that. Rick hated squirrel meat. "And I wanna spend some time with you, we hardly ever get the chance…"

They both were thinking the same thing, Daryl was sure of it. He'd been so withdrawn since these people had stolen his bike and crossbow. How could he have not realized how much his coldness had hurt Rick? _Great one, Dixon, you keep fucking up…_

But he had to stop thinking like this, it was exactly the path that had led them here. He wanted, he needed Rick to be happy. And despite everything, the thought of their outing was kindling a tiny flame of happiness that he hadn't felt it in months. He gave a tentative smile.

"I'd like that, yeah…" Then, looking down and taking Rick's hand in his, surprising them both, Daryl added, "An' there's summat else I'd like…"


	15. Chapter 15

Rick's gaze that meets his when Daryl looks up is indescribable. This is how Rick used to look at him, before it all went to hell. Rick's hand, still on Daryl's face, now wanders down his chest, not slowly at all, and finally comes to rest on the front of his pants, cupping him through the layers. Daryl is hard instantly, and he doesn't want to waste another second.

Words aren't necessary, ever, with Rick like this. Daryl admires the way Rick can always find the right things to say, but he knows that, alone between them now, there's no need for big words. He'll open up more, make sure Rick knows he's not holding back about himself and how he's feeling, but when they're together like this Rick just knows what Daryl feels.

There are other ways to talk. His eyes are saying all the things he's not told Rick recently, as he turns and pulls his man towards the stairs, gaze never wavering.

And Rick follows, lets Daryl take the lead, for a change, and Daryl feels happier than he has in months. Rick still trusts him, still wants him.

Still loves him. He's so glad.

In their bedroom Daryl loses no time. He has Rick's shirt off in seconds, eager, arousal almost painful. But when he beckons to Rick he doesn't make for the bed. Stripping off his vest and his own shirt, stepping out of his boots and his pants Daryl walks into the bathroom, never stopping until he reaches the shower.

When he turns the hot water on the small room immediately starts filling up with steam.

He turns round and can't suppress a small smile of triumph. Rick has stripped off completely, too, and now steps close. Daryl hardly has time to blink and glance down at Rick's erection before his man has pushed him against the wall next to the shower cubicle. The cool tiles against his back send a shiver through Daryl. Then their erections press together and Daryl groans with longing.

Rick's hands on Daryl's ribcage, and for a fleeting second there's that awful sadness in Rick's eyes when he remembers how much the illness has weakened Daryl. His fingers on Daryl's skin are extra gentle as they follow the curve of his ribs.

But then Rick's mouth is on Daryl's, and all thoughts of migraines, illness and pain are forgotten.

The taste of Rick doubles Daryl's desire. He leans his head back against the wall as Rick explores his mouth hungrily. But then Rick pulls back slightly, eyes on Daryl worried, and he gently pushes his hand between the wall and Daryl's head.

"Gonna keep your head safe, ok?"

For once Daryl isn't annoyed at Rick's overprotectiveness. He understands now where it comes from, and that Rick is hurting, and frightened too. He tries a smile as Rick's fingers gently card through his hair.

"'kay…thanks…"

Rick's other hand sneaks in between them, but Daryl suddenly has an idea. He takes Rick's hand and stills it before it can close around his erection.

"Remember when y'helped me wi'the bath?"

"Of course I do."

"Tha' was nice..."

Rick smiles. "It was, yeah…"

Without another word Daryl pulls Rick into the shower cubicle, and Rick follows eagerly, pulling the glass door to. Daryl takes the shampoo from the basket on the wall and holds it out to Rick.

"Wash my hair?"

Rick takes the bottle with another smile, and Daryl steps under the hot jet. The evening is chilly and he's starting to shiver. He never used to be fussed about what the temperature was like around him. Now he's often cold, and it's actually painful, and exhausting. For a moment the sadness threatens again.

Will he ever be the same as he was?

Then Rick's hands are on his head, lathering his hair gently. Daryl leans into the sensation, and his erection, which had flagged a bit while they got into the shower, picks up again as Rick's soapy hands begin wandering down his body.

When Rick takes him in one hand and starts slow, languid strokes that feel peculiar from the slicked-up fingers Daryl starts to moan and leans his head back. He lets the hot water wash away most of the shampoo while he rests his head on his lover's shoulder. Rick's hand carefully helps rinse the soap away, then travels down and hugs Daryl close around the chest.

"Rick, 'm so close…fuck me…"

It comes out more a growl than a request. But Rick acts immediately. He's flush against Daryl, erection warm and silky against his hip.

The arm disappears from Daryl's chest, and a moment later he feels Rick's hand between them, on his back, traveling down. Daryl spreads his legs with a moan, so ready now for his man.

The soapy suds are more than enough lubrication, and Rick loses no time.

Daryl leans into Rick as Rick enters him, giving a little groan of pleasure. He can feel his cock throb as Rick hits his prostate just right.

It's been too long, and it feels too good. Rick's arm is back around his chest, the steam and heat engulfing them both. Daryl braces himself against the shower cubicle on both sides, lowering his head and letting the hot water flow down his neck, his back. He groans again.

"Don't hold back, man. I got ya, and I'm right there with ya…"

And Daryl lets go. Rick inside him, his arm around him, hand on his cock, it's perfect. He can feel himself pulsing in Rick's grip, the waves of ecstasy shared as Rick comes too, with a groan against Daryl's neck.

At this moment Daryl knows it's true, he's worthy his man's love. They're right for each other, they belong together.

Whatever happens next, they'll be ok, as long as they have each other.

-.-

Daryl lies curled in his arms, peacefully, deeply asleep, and Rick can't remember when he last felt this happy.

His man had been out like a light the moment they'd settled down and the light was off. Their lovemaking in the shower had been more exhausting than Daryl would let on, and Rick had seen to it that they got dry and dressed quickly once they'd both recovered from their shared peak.

Daryl is still far from well, and he'd been quiet and a little shaky as Rick had dried them both, clinging on hard and happy to be helped back into the bedroom. Then he'd sunk onto the bed with a grateful little hum.

Something has changed. Rick knows Daryl will need time to get over his depression, but somehow Aaron has managed what he couldn't. He's given Daryl hope, and both of them a way to look into a future that's not just doom and gloom.

What a gift this is. They're warm, clean, dry, and safe. They didn't go hungry today. Daryl isn't in pain, or sick, and his still fragile body doesn't feel feverish to Rick.

And Daryl initiated this. He came to Rick, and he came gladly. They have rediscovered each other this night, and Rick knows that whatever happens Daryl won't be as closed off now, and will let Rick help, and take part in their new life in Alexandria.

He hopes that, just this once, their peace will hold for more than five minutes.


	16. Chapter 16

Rick looked down at Daryl by his side, deeply asleep. The dim light from the bathroom gave his man's face an ethereal, translucent glow. Rick wanted badly to run his finger along Daryl's cheekbone, stroke the still too narrow face, but he desisted. His hunter needed the rest desperately.

They would have another long day tomorrow, taking that guy back to his settlement. Hilltop, Rick recalled, was what Jesus had called it. Rick nearly smiled. The memory of Daryl's small, disbelieving snort when the guy had told them his name was a precious memory. As was the disgusted look his man had given Rick when Rick had suggested they could try and recruit this blue-eyed stranger for Alexandria. The fact that Daryl had gone out with him, had been keen to help in the search for supplies, was a sure sign that he was overcoming his depression. Taking Daryl outside the walls still made Rick nervous, though.

Today had been a risk. Daryl was stronger now, the migraine better controlled. But so many times in the past had they been sure Daryl was on the mend, and he never had been. Rick still wouldn't let Daryl leave Alexandria alone, but he had a feeling Daryl wouldn't want to, anyway. He was scared, Rick could see it in his face. But going out together was good, for them both.

A few times the two of them had been out with Carl, and those outings had served two purposes perfectly. Carl had practiced getting by with just one eye, and Daryl had become more confident again in his abilities, and his usefulness to the group. Rick knew Daryl needed to feel useful, it was as essential to him as breathing. And going outside into the wild had also helped Daryl build up his strength again.

Daryl's mood was also improving. Rick didn't allow the darkness to set in now. He kept a close eye on it, and Daryl had been more receptive to accepting help. For a while, things had looked up.

And then the nightmares had started. The first one had come after a long day outside the walls with Carl. They'd both fallen asleep quickly. When Rick was startled awake a couple of hours later he couldn't at first fathom what had happened. Then, when his senses returned to him, he'd felt Daryl shifting and moaning next to him. For a second he was sure it was the migraine coming back, and he'd turned over quickly, heart full of cold fear.

Then Daryl had given a yell and sat up straight in bed.

"Shh, man, it's ok…"

"Wh'happened?"

"It was just a nightmare, man. C'mere…"

Daryl had let Rick pull him into his arms and Rick had smoothed the covers over them both, holding Daryl in his arms. His man had been shaking, and it had taken several minutes for his heart to stop hammering, his breathing to return to normal.

That first night they'd fairly easily gone back to sleep. But it had happened again the next night, and the next. The waking was always strange. Daryl seemed unusually groggy and unfocused when he started awake, and always felt oddly clammy. After the third time it had happened Daryl had shook off Rick's hands and, without a word, climbed out of bed. He'd rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind himself.

At first Rick had been sure Daryl was being sick in there, and it had worried him. But he hadn't heard anything, so he'd left Daryl be at first. But Daryl didn't reappear. After fifteen minutes Rick had gotten up and knocked quietly on the bathroom door.

"You ok, man?"

There was no answer. Rick had slowly opened the door. Daryl had been sitting on the closed toilet, staring at his feet.

"What's going on, Daryl?"

Daryl had shaken his head, then, without looking up, gotten up and walked past Rick back to bed. By the time Rick had turned off the bathroom light and returned to the bed Daryl had been lying on his side, no reacting at all when Rick had climbed under the covers. He hadn't let Rick hold him that night. Neither of them had gone back to sleep.

The next night, when Daryl had woken with a start and a scream again, he'd rushed to pull on his pants, grabbed his shirt and fled from the room. Rick hadn't even been surprised. He'd let him be then, but that had only been the beginning. When Daryl had refused to go upstairs and to bed the night after that Rick had lost his patience.

"You need your sleep, man. Pacing the streets all night isn't gonna help. Do you want the migraines to come back, huh?"

Daryl had regarded him with eyes full of despair. He'd looked exhausted, and close to tears.

"Jus' leave me be."

And with that he'd stalked from the house.

Rick had known then that he needed help. He'd gone to see Denise the next day.

"It's probably the medication, yes," Denise had confirmed his suspicions. "Vivid dreams are the side effect of many drugs, and what else is there to dream about these days but stuff that gives you nightmares?"

The problem was that otherwise the drugs were working. They'd gone through a few already, and the current ones that were the most effective, and agreed with Daryl best. At least until now.

It had been Aaron who came up with a solution. Daryl still went to him regularly for acupressure, to ensure the migraine never even got a foothold should it start up again. One night, not long after the nightmares had started, Aaron had come to the house and asked Rick for a word.

"Daryl was over today, for his session. Rick, is everything all right? He was exhausted, but he wouldn't tell me what's wrong."

"Nightmares. He's been having them for several nights now. I'm worried. He needs to sleep, it'll all come unstuck if he doesn't rest."

Rick had felt more hopeless than in a long time. They'd finally gotten the headaches under control, and now something else threatened to undo all the progress. Daryl needed to sleep, he was getting close to crisis, Rick could feel it. He'd not seen much of Daryl for a couple of days since his man refused to sleep in their bed, but Rick was glad that at least he still went to Aaron for the acupressure.

"Poor guy… Listen, I got an idea. We've got our next session tomorrow. If you see him, tell him not to miss it."

Daryl hadn't turned up that night, but the next night he had been back. Rick, desperate to help his man but conscious that fussing would just make it much worse, had taken to going to bed on his own, praying that Daryl would join him. Until this night his prayers hadn't been answered.

The bedroom door had opened, then closed quietly. Rick had been in the en suite, and now, still holding the towel, walked back into the bedroom. Daryl had been standing by the door, looking a little awkward. Rick's heart had leap with relief.

"You ok?"

Daryl hadn't looked up, just held on to the dresser toeing off his shoes. Eventually, though, he'd nodded.

"Yeah…"

For a moment longer the hunter's body language had still been that of flight, but then, with a little sigh, he'd padded over to Rick in his socks. He'd walked right up to Rick and put his forehead on Rick's shoulder. Rick had put his arms around his man, pulling him close. A lump had formed in his throat and his vision became blurry behind tears.

"You talked to Aaron."

It wasn't a question, but Daryl hadn't sounded upset. Rick, feeling relief was over him, had nodded.

"I worry about you, man. And Aaron, he knows us. Knows…knows what you're going through…"

Daryl had nodded against Rick's shoulder. "He does. It was a good idea, Rick. He helped. Told me to lie down on his couch for the session, like I used to in the beginning. Said he'd do it today, the acupressure, not show me new techniques. And when he was done I…I just fell asleep."

"No nightmares?"

"No. Aaron said if I wanted to we could just do that for a while. So if I don't sleep at night I'll get some rest that way. And he said, maybe, if I relax enough, the nightmares will go away."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Yeah…"

"Hey," Rick had said, but then hesitated. Daryl had lifted his head and looked at him questioningly. Heart beating faster Rick had gone on. "If, you know, you're not too tired now…since you just had a nap…"

Daryl had smiled knowingly, taken Rick's hand and led him to the bed.

The nightmares hadn't disappeared after that, but they had become fewer, and when they came they'd both been calmer about Daryl losing sleep. He could always go to Aaron the next day.

Rick smiled with relief at the memories. This night had so far been unbroken, and Daryl by his side looked peaceful. Now he mumbled a little and turned over with a sigh. Rick pulled back a little, but Daryl scooted closer, then rested his head on Rick's chest.

"Y'watchin' me sleep again." His voice sounded sleep-drowsy but amused, and Rick hugged him close.

"Just making sure you stay put, buddy."

"Not goin' nowhere. Go t'sleep, Rick, 's late."

"You're right. Night."

"Night, man. Love ya."

"Love you too, Daryl."


	17. Chapter 17

"Tara loved her, she told Father Gabriel and me, back at Negan's compound." There was a pause, then, "Thought you should know, is all…"

The young man's eyes were on the body in the grave Daryl had dug. Daryl had been mesmerized by those eyes when he and Rick had first encountered Jesus. An odd thing to remember, now. Nothing felt real, all the memories were only bitter dreams, burning at the back of his aching head.

He was numb with exhaustion and sadness. Another one dead, and it was his fault.

 _Should've killed that bastard when I had the chance._

That thought had been all-consuming since they'd returned with the body. Daryl didn't even remember digging the grave, but he could feel it in his body, the dull, constant ache in every muscle. Good.

 _I should be the one in that hole._

Dwight had been aiming for him, he'd said so. Oh why had he missed? This could've all been over.

"I'm sorry about your friend." Jesus's quiet voice brought Daryl back, a little. He could feel the other's eyes on himself now, but he didn't look up. He wanted to, oh how he wanted to. For once he wanted to talk about what he was feeling. About the pain, the guilt, the fear that was eating away at his insides.

It was an unsettling thing, that need to have someone there for him. Daryl was fighting it down, he wouldn't let it happen, no, not today. Not with this stranger. He wanted Rick, oh how he wanted Rick. But Rick was still asleep, in their bed, and Daryl couldn't go to him. He'd tried, but he couldn't do it.

He had wanted to talk to Carol. He'd been close to opening up, but then, just when he'd almost found the courage, she'd walked away. Daryl had stared after her, feeling confusion and hurt. His stomach had clenched painfully, he'd felt almost sick. At first he'd thought that was from the whiskey he'd downed, but then it had dawned on him. He felt disappointed, and it hurt terribly.

Carol didn't care enough to make sure he was ok. She always had, before. What had happened? Maybe Rick wouldn't care anymore, either.

Daryl started shoveling earth onto Denise's lifeless body again when that thought occurred. What if he'd done it now? Made them all hate him. What if they all walked away from him?

He was so tired, his whole body was shaking. Daryl had stayed away from the house, sure everyone would urge him to sleep. He was too frightened to even try. He knew he'd have nightmares if he did.

Tears were stinging his eyes as he stared at the white sheet down between the clods of earth. He would miss her, Daryl suddenly realized. Denise had been good people. She'd saved quite a few of them, Carl and others. And she'd helped Daryl find the right medication for his head. He'd trusted her, and she'd been a friend.

As if on cue his temple gave an angry throb. Daryl reached into his pocket and dug for his pills with shaky fingers. He threw back a couple, then washed them down with another miniature bottle of whiskey.

"I don't…," Jesus began, but Daryl shook his head.

"Don'… Jus' leave me alone…"

After a minute the younger man did. Daryl didn't look around as he heard Jesus's footsteps retreating, just stared straight ahead, feeling regret rise up his throat like bile.

He didn't want to be alone. He was sorry now that Jesus had left. He wanted Rick.

But neither of them could help, not really. Daryl knew what he had to do.

He had to find Dwight, and kill him.

-.-

"Aaron, you seen Rick?"

"He just left with Morgan, to go looking for Carol."

"What? Why did she leave?"

"No idea. Why do you need Rick?"

"It's Daryl, he… he's not doing so good. Denise getting killed, he's taking it really hard…"

"Where is he?"

"Digging her grave."

"He shouldn't be doing that, he isn't strong enough. He was back and forth all day yesterday, with Rosita and Abe. I saw him at the infirmary when they brought back Eugene. He looked exhausted."

"He's worse now. I don't think he slept. And he's been drinking."

"Damn… that can't end well, not with the meds he's on…"

"What are those pills for?"

"Daryl gets these migraines… Let's go talk to him… wait, what's that noise?"

"It's his bike, Daryl's…"

"Goddammit, c'mon…"

-.-

Daryl's head was aching, but it didn't feel like migraine this time. And anyway, that headache was the least of his worries. His shoulder was on fire, and he could feel the hot, sticky blood run down from it in gushes with every heartbeat. He groaned and tried to push himself up.

"Daryl."

"Careful, Michonne… turn him over, gently. Here, take this. Maybe we can use it to stop the bleeding…"

He knew all of these voices. He opened his eyes, but it was dark, too dark.

"Wh're we…?"

"He's coming round, thank goodness. Daryl, it's Glenn, stay still, ok?"

"Glenn…w'happened?"

"He shot you, that bastard shot you."

Moving his head slowly Daryl could make out indistinct shapes around him. There were weirdly flickering lights to one side, and they made him feel dizzy. He gave another groan. There was the taste bile at the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it down. His mouth felt parched and raw.

"Wh're we?"

"Inside a van. That guy Dwight, he caught us all, brought us back here. No idea where _here_ is… Hold still a moment, Daryl. Michonne, press that down on the wound…"

Pain suddenly exploded in Daryl's shoulder, and he screamed. He tried to pull away, nausea and pain overwhelming. Pushing himself up he scrambled away from the others.

Oh no. Nonono.

"Daryl, what is it?"

"'m sorry…gonna puke…shit, oh god…"

One hand touched the side of the van as his stomach turned over. He couldn't see anything as he leaned into the wall, sick splattering on the hand holding him up. There was only whisky to bring up, and Daryl moaned with the burning in his throat.

Then there were hands on him, and Daryl nearly flinched. Glenn held him up and Daryl felt ashamed but oddly grateful for the contact. When the gagging finally stopped he straightened up a little, taking a shaky breath. The smell of recycled whiskey and bile was strong in the confined space.

"Sorry, 'm so sorry…" It came out as a sob.

"Never mind... Ok for now?"

"Yeah…"

"C'mere then." Glenn's hands guided him over to the other side, and they sat down by Michonne.

"There's a blanket somewhere."

"Here…"

More hands on him, and Daryl flinched again. Then Glenn pulled him close. "Relax, Daryl. Michonne, you got the cloth? Put it back on his shoulder, but not quite so hard…"

A blanket brushed his arms which were covered in goosebumps, and Michonne's hands were back, holding the rag to his shoulder, gently now. Daryl suddenly became aware how hard he was shivering. His teeth clicked together and he moaned.

"He's going into shock."

"We need water, and a doctor…"

Daryl's head was swimming. The voices around him faded in and out. He closed his eyes but there were still lights dancing, flickering, nauseating and confusing. God, he was feeling sick.

A hand came up and touched his forehead. Daryl shuddered.

"Sorry…" Michonne's voice. "Glenn, he's burning up."

Daryl didn't feel hot, he was freezing. Trying to pull the blanket around himself his shoulder gave another throb. Michonne helped him, wrapping him more tightly in the blanket.

There was a sudden, loud banging against the door with the bullet holes in it, and Daryl flinched. It took him a moment to realize that it was Glenn banging on the door. The sound reverberated in the small space, slicing through Daryl's throbbing head.

"Don'…" Daryl slurred, trying to push himself away from the noise, vaguely terrified at the thought of what would happen when the door opened. "Stop…"

"Shh, Daryl, it's ok…"

Michonne put her arms around him and pulled him close. Daryl leaned into her gratefully, glad to get away from the noise, the door.

The back of the van opened with a crash, light suddenly flooding over them. Daryl gagged with the pain from the sudden brightness, and Michonne pulled his head against her shoulder. He pressed his burning forehead into her shirt, shivering hard.

"What?" a voice barked, making Daryl jump again. "Christ, what's that stink…"

"We need water." Glenn sounded tense but determined not to show fear. "Our friend, he's bleeding badly. He needs a doctor."

There was a snort somewhere between disgusted and amused. "No water, no doctor. This isn't a vacation. Now shut your trap or one of you gets it, whether Negan's ready or not."

"Negan…"

Daryl thought that last voice was Rosita's, but he was past caring what was going on around him. He just wanted the awful pain and the nausea to go away.

He wanted Rick.

The van door slammed shut with a boom, making Daryl jump yet again. Michonne held him closer, a hand soothingly on Daryl's neck.

"Damn," she said softly. "What now? He needs a doctor…"

"I don't know," came Glenn's terse reply. "Michonne, I don't know!"

The van lurched and shuddered as Glenn moved towards the front of the space and sat down hard. Daryl clung to Michonne, strangely dark lights blossoming before his eyes. He knew he was on the verge of passing out. Michonne smoothed his hair back from his forehead, her face very close to his.

"It'll be ok, Daryl, it'll be ok."

"Rick…"

"He'll find us, soon."

Yeah…yeah he would. Rick always found him…

Daryl gave in to the darkness.

-.-

"Daryl! What have you done, you…"

"Rick, no! Don't, stay here…"

"Let me go, Abe."

"No Rick, no! Don't, be quiet. This…"

The door of the RV banged open, startling them all. "Pissing our pants yet?"


End file.
